7. Kyla
Chapter Seven
KYLA
Two months later
The morning sun streams through Cookie Corner's bay windows, sparkling on the green leaves on the tree outside. I breathe in the familiar scents of vanilla and cinnamon as I unlock the front door, no longer jumping at every shadow. I'm reclaiming my space. My life.
The store still smells faintly of fresh paint, the blown-out windows replaced. A local carpenter remade my cabinets and the whole town came together to help me fix this place back up.
“Good morning, gorgeous.” Zander's voice makes me smile before I even turn around. He's standing in the doorway, holding two cups of coffee from the diner down the street. His firefighter uniform is crisp, and his eyes are warm as they meet mine.
“Shouldn't you be heading to the station?” I accept the coffee gratefully, letting my fingers linger against his.
“Can't start my shift without seeing my favorite baker.” He leans down to kiss me softly. “How are you doing? Really?”
I consider the question as I move behind the counter, starting my morning routine. I had a couple of nightmares about the explosion and Trevor. But those moments are getting fewer and further between, replaced by memories of Zander bursting through the door, of the way he held me after the police took Trevor away, of the entire town rallying around me in the days that followed.
“I'm okay. The new security system is working great.”
Zander nods, but I can see the worry still lingering in his eyes. He's been incredible through all of this – protective without being possessive, supportive without being suffocating. Trevor remained in the county jail awaiting trial and had been denied bail. The sheriff mentioned that he was likely to get a sentence of up to 30 years.
“And how do you feel about opening again?” he asks gently.
“Excited. There’s no way I’m going to let what happened get in the way of my dream. This town needs my cookies.”
“It's one of the things I love about you.” The words slip out naturally.
I look up at him, heart pounding. “You do?”
He sets his coffee down and comes around the counter, taking my hands in his. “You bet. I love how you see the good in everything. How you turned this place into something magical. How you're so incredibly strong, even when you think you're not.”
“I love you too,” I whisper. “And I love that you make me feel safe without making me feel trapped. That you believe in me, even when I doubt myself.”
His kiss makes all the thoughts of my to-do list vanish, until the oven timer breaks the moment.
Zander grins. “That's my cue. Need help with anything before I head to work?”
I shake my head, shooing him toward the door. “Go save lives, firefighter. I've got this.”
“Dinner tonight? My place? I promise not to attempt cooking again after last time. We can order pizza.”
I laugh, remembering his slightly charred attempt at lasagna. “Deal. I'll bring dessert.”
Around lunchtime, Aunt Christa appears with sandwiches. “Thought you could use a break, I’ll cover the counter.”
I settle into a chair, realizing how hungry I am. “Have I thanked you lately for being amazing?”
“Only about a thousand times. I left Tiffany curled up in front of the fire. Who knew she’d get on so well with all our animals? What an angel that cat is.” She unwraps her sandwich. “How are you doing, sweetheart?”
“You know what? I'm doing great. Not just saying it this time. I'm finally feeling like myself again.”
“I can see it. You're smiling more…and not just when a certain tall, dark and handsome firefighter is around.”
“He's part of it. A big part. But it's more than that. I'm proud of what I've built here. Proud that I didn't let Trevor take it away from me.”
Aunt Christa smiles. “We're all proud of you, honey. You've turned this place into something special.”
As night falls, I clean up after the day. A few photos dot the new noticeboard; last week's winter festival, Zander and his crew dusted with flour for their charity baking day.
I lock up, holding a box with Zander's snickerdoodles. I turn, and there he is. Zander, still in his uniform, leaning against his truck. Waiting for me.
“Thought you might want a ride,” he says, pushing off the truck.
“My hero,” I say, and I mean it.
Zander takes the cookie box from my hands, sets it carefully on the truck's hood, and pulls me close. One strong hand cups my cheek, the other at my waist. His kiss tastes like a dream, like everything I never dared to hope when I planned my new life in Snowflake Falls.
Maybe some dreams really do come true.